An Overlord's Fable
by Knightmare Gundam of Ni
Summary: Exiled from Albion, a boy finds himself adopted by a race of creatures as their new Master...after a dozen generations, Evil has found a way.
1. Prologue: Rebirth

An Overlord's Fable

Disclaimer: I own one copy each of Fable III and Overlord II. That's it.

Prologue: Rebirth

The sky was, as always, pure blue and sunny, without a hint of cloud in the sky.

How I despise it.

Floating out here in this bloody ocean, I think I've found a new torment for the sinful: complete and utter Boredom. Honestly, I'm even starting to regret not being executed. I mean, there was at least something new and interesting in death, and maybe the afterlife, if what those cruddy Dark and Light Temples said was true. Ah well, too late for that. At least I had a little fun during the escape, as the bloodied bandages around my calf and shoulder attest.

Man, did Logan and Arthur over-react. I mean, I didn't do anything that Reaver hasn't done worse in his past seven hundred years of life or so, going by Father's stories, and I don't see them going and shackling him, dragging him to jail and then standing him in front of a firing squad. Well, I suppose the fact that Reaver would shoot all of them before they got within a thousand feet of him with chains is a bit of dissuasion from that course of action, but it's the principle of the thing! Something my two brothers always seem to obsess about, principles, utter garbage as it is.

I can't believe it, but I even miss those two, all of Logan's dourness and Arthur's good-natured ignorance. At least I could get a few laughs out of tweaking Logan's nose or tricking Arthur into embarrassing himself in public…again. Honestly, my little brother was far too gullible. The number of times he's needed Walter or Jasper to pull him out of trouble exceeds the number of bullets I've used in target practice several times over. That was good fun.

Hmm…shouldn't I have been eaten by a shark or something by now? The bandages are keeping my blood loss down, but I'm fairly sure I've shed enough to attract a good number of the murderous predators by now. I was hoping to get the chance to punch one in the nose before getting eaten.

…

Nope, still nothing. Well, might as well paddle around; get a good view of the ocean again, before I finally expire of dehydration and hunger. Hum-dee-dum, paddle, paddle, paddle – wait a second, what's –

Blagh! Phhhbbt! Urgh, Ptah! Sand in the mouth! Sand in the mouth! Blech!

…

Well, there goes lunch…and now breakfast. Both halves of the same raw fish. Surprised I kept it down this long. Well, I found land, wherever this is. Too little, too late, unless I've happened to land on the beach-side estate of some hot-shot doctor.

…

Hmm…what do you know, all that 'life-flashes-before-your-eyes' stuff is bollocks. Instead of that nice lass I bedded on my fourteenth birthday, I'm seeing the Grim Reaper! Granted, he's rather short, but he's got the scythe, the robe, all he's missing is the foreboding aura and skull-face. Speaking of which, his face really looks more like an old fish or frog than anything human.

"Master…"

…What now?

"Don't fear the Reaper…" The figure bent down and I felt a cold, clammy hand plaster itself on my wounded shoulder. Luckily enough, both shots had gone right through, which wasn't much of a surprise given that they'd been fired at point-blank range. A strange feeling coursed through that shoulder, giving me the worst case of goosebumps I've had since that time Reaver told me about that orgy…

Huh. It…it feels better now. Could this be…the power of Will? Like Father?

"Hmm…strange wounds you have, Master. No infection though." The strange fish-reaper muttered, waddling down and doing the same thing to my calf. As the feeling washed over the bullet wound, I felt woozy, finally falling unconscious for the first time in three days.

"All hail…The Overlord…"

– The Author –

The Plot Bunnies are breeding!

Dear god, is this ever going to stop? I reminisce, I check a TV Tropes article, I read some fanfiction, and then I get writing on something completely new! Again!

Ah well, at least I'm making some progress on my other stories too.

Alright, I'll start with the obvious: This is primarily a Fable/Overlord crossover story, although I'll be sticking in small and large references to other universes, like Lord of the Rings, Arthurian legend, so on and so forth.

Now, a little bit of background: This story begins about five years before the start of Fable III. Logan, as in Fable III canon, is king and the oldest brother, while Arthur is the Hero-to-Be and youngest brother, making Tyrannical Trainee-to-be here the unloved middle brother. This, obviously, did not make him a saint. Other than that, I'll leave his further characterization to future chapters and your imagination.

Hmm…I seem to have a new pattern now, with a first-person prologue before going third-person for the rest of the story.

Knightmare Gundam of Ni


	2. Chapter 1: Blue Beginnings

An Overlord's Fable

Disclaimer: I own one copy each of Fable III and Overlord II. That's it.

Chapter 1: Blue Beginnings

– The Candidate –

**Noon**

The man…well, boy, to be a little more accurate, groaned and sat up, stretching his arms out and yawning. It was a few seconds before he finally opened his eyes, expecting to see his princely bedchamber and a girl or two in his bed with him.

Instead, he saw a beach next to the ocean, bright and sunny, and around him was a gaggle of strange blue creatures, about the size of Hobbes. Directly in front of him was the figure he'd seen before, thought to be a dream or some fevered delusion.

"Awake, Master?" It rasped. The boy hesitated and then nodded once. "Good. Too much longer…would have left you there…can't resurrect Humans. Not right anyway…" The reaper-like figure, complete with scythe, waddled around the boy, clammy hands patting him over and apparently checking for something. "No more wounds?"

"Ah…no…"

"Good. Might want to get moving now." The creature said, waving at the others to follow it as it waddled along the beach. The boy studied the creatures closely now. They looked like Hobbes, if you stripped away layers of fat, colored them a sea blue and gave them fins instead of ears, webbed digits and loincloths. He stood, stretching again and wondering at how refreshed he felt. Three days adrift at sea, he expected to feel quite a bit worse than he did now. Infinitely worse. Dead.

_Did this…creature heal me?_ The boy heard jabbering up ahead, and looked to see one of the blue things jumping up and down, waving at him. Still at a loss for words, the ship-wrecked boy followed. The path the group took was fairly straightforward, following along the coastline for a half-hour before meeting the mouth of a river. One by one, the not-Hobbes jumped into the river and started swimming up it. The boy followed, wading through the waist-deep water without much in the way of trouble. The river wound through a forest, blanketed with snow the likes of which he'd only seen in Mistpeak. The water was quite cold, and he was somewhat astonished that the creatures were able to swim so briskly through the river.

Small streams branched off from the flow at several points, with more of the creatures coming up from them and joining the original group, led by the robed one. Most of them were faster though, making it apparent that the only reason the group with him remained so at their discretion. Slogging forward, the boy wondered if he would have been better to go look for shelter instead of following these dubious beings. Before he could finish his train of thought, two of the creatures crept up behind him and pushed at his legs, making him fall backwards until they grabbed him by his shoulders. Two of them ahead fell back and grabbed his legs, the four together lifting him and hustling forward through the river, taking him towards a large hole were the river issued from.

Seeing the gaping maw of a cave, the boy was suddenly struck with memories of his father telling him stories of his adventures. In particular, about a cave filled with hobbes who stole children to turn them into more of their foul kind. A scowl worked its way across the boy's face as he started struggling.

_Not even if they serve Lucien himself will I allow these things to turn me into more of them!_ While unable to completely break free, the boy managed to make the creatures struggle to bring him forward. Eventually, the robed one moved back towards them and sighed, a gurgling sound, before waving another four of his kind forward, these ones grabbing him and helping his current handlers to drag him into the cave. Despite himself, the boy panicked as the darkness engulfed him, all around nothing but the glowing yellow eyes of the not-Hobbes, with the sounds of the river and their jabbering.

He couldn't tell how long they were in the darkness, but suddenly light blossomed, allowing the boy sight again. And what he saw astonished him.

It was an enormous cavern, large enough house Bowerstone with room leftover to expand. The floor was covered in glowing hot magma that illuminated the vista…and the construct above. If one took a tower, made for the darkest and evilest of Heros past and inverted it that would be the closest description to the edifice the boy saw before him now. Around it orbited dozens if not hundreds of floating rocks, The tip of the upside-down tower glowed with a mystic energy, a pillar of blue light lancing into the floor of the cavern, a place around which the pools and streams of magma coiled.

The creatures surged out of the river, still carrying him and moving towards a platform of some sort where a floating stone with a flat top awaited. Atop it awaited a creature that looked much like the robed blue thing, except with a gaunt, grey skin and bat-like ears. A stick attached to its back dangled some sort of glowing stone above its head, illuminating the area around it further.

– The Minion Master –

Gnarl waited on the Transport Stone impatiently, wondering just where Mortis was. The ancient Blue, one of Gnarl's oldest brethren, had sent one of his younger and much stupider brothers to tell Gnarl to bring a Stone down for a 'good surprise'.

_Frankly, unless he's finally used that scythe for something other than threatening the newborns and brought me a fresh sheep, he's going to spend some time helping Gubbin in the Dungeons!_

"What is it Mortis? I swear, if you've brought me down here for something foolish…" Gnarl's raspy voice trailed off as he saw the load eight of the Blues were carrying, a young human male that they carried onto the platform. Gnarl's eyes bugged out as they brought the human closer, and he felt an old Evil spring in his heart cavity. "I don't believe it! You found an heir!" The boy had a neck-length mane of black hair, with highlights of red, and a nice pale skin tone that brought to mind the Vampiric Overlords about nine centuries past. The eyes were a dark blue color, and didn't have the trademark Overlord glow, but Gnarl figured he'd get that sooner or later.

"All washed up on the beach…" Mortis replied. Gnarl could feel his mouth twist into a smile that had sent the prisoners into spasms of terror way back in the Bad Old Days.

"Well don't keep hauling him around like a sack of halfings! Come on, stand him up!" The eight Blues scrambled to put the boy down as gently as possible, somehow managing to stand him on his two feet despite his dizziness and shock. "Welcome Master! My apologies for the Blues' enthusiasm, but well, it's just been so long since we've had an Overlord…"

"Wait, wait, time-out." The boy blurted. "Just what in Jack of Blades' bloody name is going on here!" Gnarl and Mortis glanced at each other, sharing the same toothy grin.

"I am Gnarl, Minion Master, and devoted Servant of Darkness." Gnarl said, bowing his head. "And this is Mortis, oldest of the Blues and keeper of the Minion Dead."

"Master." Mortis said, sweeping a bow before the boy.

"…Okay…that doesn't really explain anything…"

"Forgive me, but being down here doesn't help my skin, so if you'll allow me to explain on the way…" Gnarl said, before triggering the Transport Stone. The boy managed to keep his balance as the Stone, old and probably suffering from the lack of a good magic boost, jerked into motion.

_Good balance, good, that'll help him in combat._ Gnarl observed, the grin still wide on his face.

"What the – I-is this magic?" The boys stuttered.

_Hmm, he'll have to lose that. Can't have a new Overlord stuttering when he's threatening the populace!_ "Indeed Master." Gnarl answered. "The Netherworld is a nexus for the Darkest, most Evil magical energies in the world! The Tower and all around it is imbued enormous magical power!" The boy looked suitably impressed by that statement. "This is also where the Very First Overlord created the Minion race!"

"…Er, what are Minions?"

"…Didn't I tell you?"

"No."

"Drat. I'm starting to get forgetful in my age." The Stone shuddered to a stop at the landing platform, allowing Gnarl to step off followed by the boy and Mortis into the Throne Room, the centerpiece of Netherworld Tower, with stony pillars and…well, the tattered drapes…damn Gnomes. "MOULDY! Get your worthless hide down here NOW!" There was a series of bangs, bumps and shouts before the Brown finally tumbled down the stairs from what had been the Private Quarters of the Overlord, which also happened to include the library. "Get me my book!"

"Which one Gnarl?"

"The one I wrote you twit!" Mouldy looked confused for a second before he spotted the boy, and grinned widely, scrambling back up the stairs and disappearing for a bit before returning, lugging a tome half as large as himself. Mouldy dropped the large book in front of the boy's feet. "Here you are Sire, Gnarl's Guide to Overlording! I'll try and tell you what you need to know, but in case I miss anything, this book will help!" Gnarl remembered writing the book fondly, an activity that had distracted him and the other Elder Minions in the three hundred years since the last Overlord had bought the slaughterhouse. The covers were made out of smelted scraps of arcanium left over from the Second Overlord of the Dark Tower, a Master Gnarl remembered fondly.

_Pity he got trapped in the Abyss._

While arcanium was rather light for its size, the book still came up to the boy's knee, so it was surprising to see him lift the heavy tome up with only a moderate amount of difficulty. _Could use a little work-out, but alright._

– The Candidate –

The boy opened the book, wondering at the pages, which were of four different sorts, a leathery brown, a parchment-like blue, a rough pinkish-red and a strangely smooth light grass-green.

"What are the pages made out of?"

"Tanned Minion hide."

"Cool." The boy opened the book.

_Gnarl's Guide to Overlording_

_Written by Gnarl_

_Edited by Mortis, Wolvie and Pyre_

_Introduction_

_Greetings Master! This book is here to guide you through the early stages of your Overlording career! Hopefully I'm still around to help out, but if not this book should cover the basics enough for you to survive – and thrive!_

_First off, the basics for the uninitiated. An Overlord is a Dark Master of Evil equally capable of hacking heads off with an axe as blasting peasants with spells, Overlords rule over their lands with a mailed fist, crackling with eldritch energy! Not only that, but Overlords command hordes of Minions!_

_Created by the First Overlord in the bowels of the Netherworld, Minions come in four different lovely flavors: The Browns, The Reds, The Greens, and The Blues, each with their own abilities. As the most devoted and loyal servants, Minions will gladly sacrifice their lives for you, Master!_

"Bloody awesome." The boy chuckled, reading the book. Then out of nowhere, something thumped into his head, almost sending him crashing to the ground. Some sort of high-pitched squeaking erupted from the thing now sitting on his head, almost painful in its pitch.

"Bloody Gnomes!" Gnarl growled. "Ever since that day two hundred and fifty years ago when they tunneled into the Netherworld, we haven't been able to get rid of them! Annoyances, the lot of them!" The Gnome on the boy's head started squeaking again, to which Gnarl replied: "No, _your_ brother is a greasy stain! I should know, I watched the Overlord of Nordberg grind him into the ground!" More squeaking. "Eh…now he's either declaring holy crusade…or selling paintings at a two-for-one deal…" At that point, the small weight launched itself from the boy's head and attacked Gnarl.

The creature was maybe the size of the boy's fist, wearing dull brown clothes and a pointy brown hat, pummeling Gnarl's head with its tiny fists. By now thoroughly annoyed, the lad simply grabbed the Gnome by its leg and tossed it into the wall with a splat.

"Ah, thank you Master."

"Yeah, about that, how do you guys know that I'm this Overlord?"

"Why, we can feel it! The darkness in our souls draws us to the best candidates! Although it's a bit of a mystery, since we've been searching for the last three hundred years…where did you come from Master?"

"Albion."

"Ah, that explains it! You're from the Original Overlord's homeland!"

"Eh, what?"

"You see Master, the Original Overlord, way back in the day, before even _my_ time, had a terrible row with his brother Bill, and left to seek out his fortune. He came to this land, and started terrorizing the population almost before he set foot on dry land! He went about like this for twenty years before he decided that he needed some help fending off the armies that were sent after him, so, using his awesome magic, he created us, the Minions!"

"Uh-huh."

"So with our help, he subdued several kingdoms and created an Evil Empire that ruled the land for centuries! And, also, took a few dozen mistresses."

"I like the sound of that."

"Ha! I thought you would! Anyway, Lord Black had quite a number of children by these mistresses, and his reign ended when they all blasted him with an assortment of spells."

"Ouch."

"Indeed, and then they started fighting over who would be the next Overlord. The less gutsy fled to other lands while the eldest and strongest fought over the throne until one of them finally claimed it. Unfortunately, some of the later descendants went good and started doing heroism and other muck like that and started killing off as many of the still-evil descendants as they could find, which eventually left us in the present situation."

"So, you're saying I'm the grand-nephew of the Original Overlord?"

"Oh yes, or else the Throne Room wouldn't be all aglow like this!" Looking around, the boy could see a harsh dark glow from the stones that made up the room, particularly focused on the stony throne in front of him. At the moment, they were standing in a circular depression made by about three round steps, with lines of magma glowing all around.

"Brilliant! How do I start?" The boy exclaimed, walking towards the throne.

"Well, first we're going to need to get a hold of a Spell Stone so we can wake the Netherworld up properly. Three hundred years has taken its toll on the place, and it needs a boost of magic to get working."

"Alright, well where are we going to find that?"

"Well, if you'll just sit on the throne…" The boy did so, and was surprised to see a map appear out of thin air before him. "Ah, there it is. Hmm, now the Netherworld should be able to pinpoint the location of at least one Spell Stone…hah! New Spree!" Gnarl chuckled, jabbing a claw at the part of the map marking the south-east, where there was a small glowing jewel embedded into the fabric. "I should have figured they'd rebuild there after the Conqueror of Nordberg cleared up the Wasteland!"

"Alright, so let's get going!"

"I like your enthusiasm Master, but we have a bit of a problem."

"And what's that?"

"Other than me and a few other Browns, we have only Blue Minions."

"Okay, and what can they do?"

"Well, they can resurrect your fallen Minions if they get to them in time, they can swim and breath underwater, and can damage spiritual entities…but they're absolutely horribly fighters."

"I see your point. What happened to the other three?"

"Well, after the Gnomes broke in, Giblet took the other Browns to start a war against them, and I haven't heard from them since…A few decades after that, Wolvie and the other Greens left for the east to look for Overlord candidates, while Pyre and the other Reds said they 'felt the call' and went on some trip to a place called Moria. Mortis and the Blues only stayed because-"

"Greetings! Oh-he-who-would-be-our-Dark-Lord!" The interruption came from a brown-skinned minion off to the left of the boy and Gnarl, wearing a jester hat made out of green cloth and sticks while using a skull-topped cane to stand. White tattoos all over his body were either strange arcane runes, or the random dabbling of a half-insane artist.

"Quaver." Gnarl groaned.

"I must commemorate this occasion with a poem!" The Minion – Quaver it seems – declared, before starting to dance a little jig.

"Our Lord has arrived, from a land far away,  
>Grateful are we, who will get to make them pay!"<p>

For a long moment, everyone in the chamber, Mouldy, Mortis, Gnarl and the boy, just stared at Quaver, before the scythe-wielding Blue whacked the jester on the top of his head.

"Anyway," The boy said, "All we need is the Spell Stone, right? There's no need to fight right off, I'll just go and get it and then come back…by the way, how am I getting there?"

"The tunnel system, of course." Gnarl replied. "Luckily enough for us, the Gnomes didn't manage to penetrate any of the tunnels the Overlord of Nordberg made, so we have a free pass to the Mellow Hills."

"Well then, let's get going." The boy said, standing up from the throne as the map rolled back up and disappeared.

"Wait Master! You couldn't possibly go out wearing _that_!" The boy paused and looked down at his clothes, and he had to admit that the seasalt-encrusted and sand-dirtied garments wouldn't exactly make for a good first impression.

"Mouldy! Gubbin! Get the medium-sized gauntlet and leather armor from the Armory!" There was a mad scramble as the mentioned Brown Minions popped out of nowhere, carrying an assortment of items and swarming the boy, a series of clicks, clanks and other noises indicating their progress until finally they stood back for the rest to see the boy.

"Ooh!" Was the general agreement. The armor was dark black leather, with an iron plates sewn into the front of the cuirass and over the pauldrons and greaves. While the right hand was enclosed in normal leather glove, the left was armored in a black gauntlet, the forearm carved to resemble a dragon's head with a large glowing gold gem embedded in it. Over the youth's head went the traditional Overlord helm, a tri-horned metal helmet that enclosed his face to the extent that shaded his eyes from view, while a cloth mask went over his lower face.

"Huh…this fits rather well." The boy commented. Gubbin brought forward a sword, smaller than usually used by Overlords but just the right size for a growing novice like the boy. Made of good steel, it had a keen double-edged blade, a grip wrapped in Salamander hide, and a guard that looked like a Minion's face.

"Congratulations to thee, our Tyrant Trainee!"

"Shut up Quaver!" Mouldy scolded, kicking the jester into one of the small stone pillars in the room.

"Ahem. While Quaver put it rather flippantly, it is true that this marks you as a Tyrant-in-Training!" Gnarl declared, to the glee of the other Minions.

"Cool." The Trainee Tyrant commented. "Now, where are these tunnels?"

"Ah yes, if you step here My Lord…" The Trainee moved back to the center of the room, standing in the circular depression again.

"Alright now – Whoah!" The ceiling opened up above him, black segmented claws curling around him as the stones making the circular depression separated and sank into the floor around them, exposing an enormous pit that went right through the tower and into the lake of magma below. Instead of falling, a strange light brought him up, and he shot into a morass of dark energy and stone.

– The Trainee –

**Mellow Hills**

It was a woozy and bewildered Tyrant-in-Training that wandered off of the Netherworld Gate and into a thriving field, surrounded by sheep.

_"Ahem, testing, testing, can you hear me Master?"_

"What! Gnarl, is that you?"

_"Yes, it's me, but there's no need to talk out loud, this is all in your head…not in the crazy way though."_

_Hm. Can you hear me?_

_"Yes, reception is perfect Sire. Now, before we do anything else, why don't you summon some Blues? After all, some Minions are better than none."_

_Alright. How do I do that?_

_"Well, there should be some Minion Pits next to the Gate – ah, there they are!"_ Next to the Netherworld Gate were piles of stone, two on either side, the ones on the left faintly glowing blue and green, while the others on the right had yellow-brown and red auras. The blue pile was taller, more like a mound with spikes like a ziggurat and a hole that delved into the earth. _"Good, now reach out with your gauntleted hand and command the Blues to emerge, feel your power bending them to your will!"_ The Trainee did as advised, his hand curling into an upraised claw as the crystal set into the gauntlet glowed. Blue Minions started to leap out of the hole, again and again until a decent-sized force was before him.

_"Amazing! You've summoned twenty-five Minions!"_

_Is that good?_

_"Well, usually a beginning Overlord can only summon ten to fifteen Minions. Only the Original Overlord could directly control all of the Minions at once. Later on, some of his descendants created the Minion Totems, a set of magical objects that could enhance their willpower and allow them to control more Minions. You being able to command twenty-five off the bat might mean that the Totems will have a better effect! But, ah, that's just speculation. We don't have the Minion Totems, or any of the others."_

_Why's that?_ The Trainee Tyrant asked, waving the Blues to follow him.

_"The Gnomes. They invaded and looted the Netherworld of all the artifacts, armor and weapons our Masters took so long to painstakingly collect and forge, everything from the Life, Mana and Minion Totems to the Mace of Doom sealed in the Master's vault! Why, they even sabotaged the Forge and drove Giblet mad!"_

_Hold that thought. _The sounds of battle came from ahead, and the Tyrant Trainee saw what it was as soon as he and his small force crested the grassy hill.

_"My word! Halfings and Gnomes fighting together! Abomination!" _The Trainee assumed that the 'Halflings' were the short, squat things that looked like someone took a man and squished him down to half his size and made most of his muscle into fat. They were armed with swords and bucklers, fighting against dozens of Brown Minions, most of which fought with clubs and were dressed just in loincloths, but a few of which had metal helmets and armor, wielding spears. Leading the Brown Horde was a Minion dressed in goggles and mask with a black apron, wielding an improbably large hammer. _"There's Giblet! Quickly Master, slay the Halfling filth and cleanse the Gnomish scourge!"_

Despite irritation at Gnarl's tone, the Tyrant-in-Training charged forward, Blues trailing behind to slam into the flanks of the combined Halfing/Gnome force. The Halflings looked a lot like Hobbes, making it a lot easier for the Tyrant to use his meager sword-fighting skills to slaughter them. Despite their decent weapons, the Halflings were definitely no fighters, having even less skill than the Tyrant. Apparently, only the Minion's lack of decent coordination and the number of Halflings had kept this fight equal, something the sudden interference turned into a clear advantage for the Minions. Most of the Gnomes were useless to the Halflings, the Tyrant just stomping on whatever Gnome was foolish enough to get near him. The Blues, true to Gnarl's description, were just as useless in the fight, instead going and reviving whatever Brown fell in the battle.

It didn't take long for the Halfling ranks to break apart and flee, the short stubby things running with far greater speed than one might expect from such rotund creatures. The Minions allowed this, Browns gathering around the Trainee as the Blues resurrected who they could. The Browns were staring at him, until the one called Giblet forced his way through the crowd and stared.

"Master?" he asked, reaching out to touch the Tyrant.

"Yes." The Trainee replied.

"The Master is…back?" Giblet whispered. "The Master is back!" He repeated louder, to the cheers of the Browns around, waving their hands in the air and even hugging each other. Before the Trainee could do anything, the Brown Horde enveloped him and the Blues, tugging and pulling them back along the road on which the battle had taken place, towards a ruined tower in the distance.

– The Author –

Alright, first chapter is up.

I started the Trainee Tyrant off with the Blues just to subvert the common formula that most Overlord fanfics have starting the Overlord off with the Browns. There's not a lot of effective difference in the plot, because he pretty much just met the Browns now, although he's not going to get his gauntlet on the Brown Hive as easily.  
>Now, first off, this story's pretty much going to follow the games' formula, with the Overlord establishing his tyrannical reign over the course of gaining his power and recollecting the lost artifacts. I had the reason for the loss of the Netherworld Objects be the Gnomes because, they had to get back somehow after the massacre of 1000 of their species.<p>

Before anyone asks (if anyone was _going_ to ask) there is a reason I'm not giving the Trainee's name yet. I'm setting up a joke later on and a Shout-Out as well.

Gnomish Kill Count: 127/50,000

Knightmare Gundam of Ni


	3. Chapter 2: Brown Bequest

An Overlord's Fable

Disclaimer: I own one copy each of Fable III and Overlord II. That's it.

Chapter 2: Brown Bequest

– The Candidate –

**The Dark Tower  
>Afternoon<strong>

The teeming Brown horde led the Overlord-to-be towards the gaping maw-like gates that were the doors to a dark and foreboding tower made of black stone, which loomed tall over the barren landscape around it despite looking like something had blown half of the structure apart. The hall immediately inside the doors looked like it had seen better days, with piles of rubble that must have been the entire floor above collapsed over most of the floor. An enormous hole in the wall and floor to the right held an impromptu staircase made of stones and wooden planks, going deep into the bowels of the structure. It was a dark descent that nearly spelled the end for the Trainee Tyrant with the many near-falls he took, if not for the crowd of Minions that caught him every time he tripped and set him aright.

Finally, they reached their destination, a large sand-bottomed cavern with four areas separated from the center by jagged stone walls. The place was filled with dozens if not hundreds of Brown Minions.

_"My word, the Dark Tower's Spawning Pit! I though this place had been destroyed with the rest of it ages ago in the Great Cataclysm!"_

_Why are the Browns here?_ Was the only thing the Trainee was concerned with. Rather than waiting for Gnarl to answer or whatever, he instead posed the question to Giblet.

"Gnomies tunneled into Netherworld, stole Mastahs stuff!" The Brown exclaimed in explanation. "Even took Apocalyptor! Giblet took Browns and chased Gnomies far! Back to Old Place! Giblet lost most Gnomies, but found some hiding in New Spree!"

_"That's it my Lord!" _Gnarl spoke up. _"Some of those Gnomes must have taken the Spell Stone they stole to New Spree and got help from the Halflings when Giblet found them! We need to pillage the village and get it back!"_

_I deduced that much Gnarl._ The Trainee commented wryly. _But I don't think we'll be able to assault the Halfings and villagers with just Blues._ "Giblet," He asked aloud, "Where is the Brown Hive?"

"Filthy Dwarvses took it!" The Forgemaster snarled. "Tunneled under to get at Old Master's Treasury, and took Hive when we wasn't lookin!"

_"Dwarves too! What is this, an Old Enemy Reunion Bash?"_

"Never mind that." The Trainee scolded. "Giblet, can you take me to the tunnels the Dwarves dug?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" The Brown was quite obviously excited, dancing with joy. "We go, take most experienced Browns! GASH!" At the call, a Brown minion walked up, wearing a hood and wielding an axe that was as big as itself. Following it was an assortment of what must have been the meanest Browns in the cavern, eighteen burly spear-Minions armed with deadly, brutal-looking serrated-head spears and wearing gnarly-looking iron armor.

_"Master, I'm sending Grubby the Digger to clear a tunnel to the Old Tower, I suggest sending all but five Blues back to the Netherworld. Dwarves are tough, greedy little buggers, and you'll need both the Brown's strength and the Blue's magic to get by in their tunnels!"_ A rumbling filled the cavern, before four of the Minion Pits popped out of the ground, the Blue one assuming its ziggurat-like active form. On top of the dormant Brown Pit was a Brown wearing a miner's helmet and with a pickaxe over one shoulder.

"Grubby!" Giblet squealed, running up and engulfing the Digger in a great big (for Minions) hug. The Digger made a choking sound and started pounding on Giblet's back to try and get the Forgemaster off.

"Giblet, focus. Dwarves, Hive?" The Trainee reminded. The hammer-wielding Brown nodded and stepped back, wiping a tear from its eye in a way that the Trainee Tyrant couldn't help but find comical as he gestured for the Blues to go. All but five of the aquatic Minions rushed forward and leaped into the Blue Minion Pit, leaving Giblet, Gnash and the outfitted Browns to merge into the Trainee's Horde. Giblet took the lead.

"Follow me!" He led the Trainee and his Horde back up the stairs to climb up the heap of rubble in the Dark Tower's foyer, and then through a series of hallways until they came to an enormous vault door, hanging open to reveal an empty chamber with a ridiculously large tunnel in the back wall.

_"Damnable Dwarves, stealing from our Master's treasury like that! They must suffer!"_ During Gnarl's mini-rant, a gaggle of Gnomes rounded the distant corner, and then froze at the sight of the heavily-armed Browns and the leather-clad Trainee Tyrant. A simple thought sent the blood-thirsty Minions surging forward to stamp the small group out. The Trainee walked forward with the Blues at his heels to see the resulting carnage. By the time he got to the Browns, the Gnomes were little more than dirty smears on the tunnel floor, and about half of the hardened Minions had taken the curious little caps the annoyances wore as ear-warmers.

– The Minion Master –

Gnarl surveyed the scene through the link between the Netherworld and this latest, only Overlord Candidate. This one was a bit of a puzzle. Gnarl could remember inducting many previous Candidates into their Overlordship, and the only ones that took to the position like this lad was doing were those who had grown up with Evil or were under enchantment, like the Second Overlord of the Dark Tower and the Overlord of Nordberg. If it weren't for the fact that this lad was a Candidate and not some sycophant for the latest Overlord, Gnarl would have been suspicious of his intentions.

Nevertheless, for such a young one, the Trainee took rather well to Overlording in the field. His swordsmanship could use work, and Gnarl would have to get a feel for his magical abilities once they got the Spell Stone back from New Spree, but for such deficiencies, he performed marvelously when he and the Horde came across his first Dwarf. It wasn't anything special compared to some of the insanity Gnarl had seen in the Second Dark Tower-Lord's reign, or Lord Gromgard's rule, just a short dirty miner in a tunic and overalls and wielding a pickaxe.

The Trainee made the mistake of walking up to the creature like it was a Halfling. It took an instant for the Dwarf to rush the Master-to-be, bowling him over and readying the pickaxe to be driven through his eye. Giblet managed to get the Dwarf first though, with a truly beautiful blow from his Forging Hammer that smote the embodied beard in its skull and splattered brains all over the tunnel wall.

"Good blow." The Trainee Tyrant groaned, climbing back up to his feet. "I have to ask, are all Dwarves going to be like that?"

_"Well Master, the helm of Overlords is a fairly distinctive mark, and most of the creatures in the area around the Dark Tower that survived the Great Cataclysm don't exactly have fond memories of Overlords."_ Gnarl informed, noting how the Trainee paused to consider that. Gnarl could practically see the abacus clacking in his Candidate Overlord's head as he calculated. This one was like the First Overlord of the Dark Tower, like the Original Overlord. Calculating, smart. Neither the Second Tower-Lord nor the Conqueror of Nordberg had been dull-witted, but they had planned on the go, charging into situations head-first and 'winging it' as the lingo went these days. This new one planned.

Gnarl couldn't wait until the Netherworld accepted him. It would be…memorable.

– The Candidate –

It didn't take five minutes for a swarm of Dwarves and Gnomes to respond to the noise that the short encounter had generated. It was made up entirely of brown-clothed Gnomes and more of those Miner Dwarves, and their clattering approach was heard long before the force itself made it into view. This allowed the Trainee to array his forces properly, planting himself in the center of a defensive line that had four Browns alongside him and five ranks behind him with the Blues in the very back of the formation. The Miners tried to bull-rush the line as the one earlier had the Tyrant, but the Browns were experienced Dwarf-Fighters, some of them even dating back to the invasion of the Golden Hills centuries ago, and were prepared with spears braced against the mass charge.

The skewered Dwarves were heavy and it took a few moments for the front-line Browns to pull their spears out of the corpses. Luckily, the second rank climbed over them to assist the would-be Overlord in resisting the remaining Dwarves. At this point, the Dark Lord-to-be noticed a phenomenon that had escaped his attention as yet. As the Gnomes and Dwarves died, some sort of luminescence sprang from their dead bodies and formed into orbs of energy that were almost immediately absorbed into the gem on his gauntlet, as soon as he walked within a certain distance of them.

_Gnarl, what is that?_ He asked, as a reddish orb formed out of a Miner and was absorbed.

_"Ah, Lifeforce, Sire! The crux of the Minion forces! The magics bound to the Command Gauntlet concentrate the escaping life energies of dying creatures in your vicinity, preventing them from escaping and allowing it to absorb and transmit the Lifeforce back to the Netherworld's Spawning Pit to spawn more Minions!"_

_I see. So, I kill more things and then get more Minions?_

_"Yes Sire. Certain creatures give different kinds of Lifeforce, which birth one of the four different Minion Tribes."_

By now the small force was dead, with some of the orbs of Lifeforce floating away from the Trainee. Rather than let their Master go and get them himself however, the Minions in his Horde eagerly leaped forward to grab the spheres of energy and bring them to him to be absorbed into the Command Gauntlet. He couldn't fault their loyalty. Some of the Blues started ripping off parts of the Miner's leather clothing and armor to wear as their own meager protection before the Trainee waved the Horde onward. There were a few more encounters with Miner Dwarves and their accompanying brown-clothed Gnomes, but they proved to be much less challenging now that the Trainee knew how to deal with them. Simply let the Browns do their job, and if they happen to have an accident, send a Blue. They made good time with this set of tactics, clearing about five hundred feet worth of tunnels in an hour according to Grubby, as relayed by Gnarl.

They stopped working almost as soon as they reached this enormous cavern, which happened to be filled wall-to-wall with Dwarves armored in steel chainmail and armed with rather large axes. The Trainee ordered the Minions back into the tunnel before setting them up in a similar defensive formation they used against the earlier Miner-rush. It didn't work quite as well as with the Miners, the 'Warrior' Dwarves rushing just as stupidly as their less combative brethren and surviving due to their armor in most cases, discounting the lucky Brown that got its spear to go through a weak point or exposed area in the armor.

With the Dwarves at close range, it fell to the Trainee, Giblet and Gnash to fend them off while the spear-Minions took a few steps back to re-engage at a range more favorable to their choice of weaponry. A few of the Browns fell during those few seconds, but their fresh corpses were passed to the rear quickly for the Blues. As he parried a light axe-blow from a Dwarf and countered by stabbing the clawed fingertips of the Command Gauntlet into the eye-slits of its helm, the Trainee wondered if this newfound degree of coordination was due to the apparent experience of the Brown fighters or the presence of their Overlord.

The fight became easier shortly after the full force of the Minion Horde was properly brought to bear. While it still took longer than the fight with the Miners, once the Tyrant-in-Training settled the Horde into one of the narrower parts of the tunnel, the Dwarf Warriors were forced to come in two at a time, allowing the line of five Spear-Browns to focus on the weaker and more vulnerable points in their armor. There was also a swarm of Gnomes that came in with them, but were forced to trickle in a stream of brown, green and blue hats that were pathetically easy for the Tyrant, Giblet and Gnash to deal with.

Well, until this one glowing gnome in red clothing leaped and latched itself onto the Trainee's helmet.

_"Agh! A Suicide Gnome! Quickly my Lord, wrench the little pest off of your face and throw it away!"_

_Easier said than done!_ The Tyrant had his gauntlet around the glowing thing, but getting it off was proving to be surprisingly difficult. It had quite the grip on the helmet, and it took another moment for him to wrench the creature off and toss it screaming at the next Dwarves to enter the confined stretch of tunnel. The Suicide Gnome bounced off of one Dwarf's helmet and exploded, blackening the helmet and sending the short bearded creature keeling backwards and blocking the tunnel for a moment.

"That could have been very painful." He grunted, before ordering Giblet and Gash to keep an eye out for any more of those glowing red Gnomes. By the time the battle ended, there were swarms of Lifeforce around that the Minions busied themselves collecting and bringing back to their Master. As soon as the Dwarves and Gnomes were looted (the Blues in particular liked their shiny new pauldrons and ear-warmers) the Trainee led the Horde back towards the cavern. Now that the thing was free of Dwarves and Gnomes, they could see the heaps of treasure that littered the cavern floor, gold and silver and gems glinting in some sort of magical light affixed to the ceiling.

_"Bah, those thieving Dwarves have carted off most of the Master's treasure!"_ Gnarl snarled inside the Tyrant's head.

_Most of it? Then this…_

_"Is only but a fraction of the riches the Second Overlord of the Dark Tower claimed. Still, it's too much for your Command Gauntlet to teleport back to the Netherworld Treasury…Grubby! Get a tunnel to that cavern so that the Master can move his treasure...Oh, really? Well then get a move on you waste of Lifeforce! My apologies milord, but there appears to be a lot of particularly hard stone surrounding that cavern. It will take Grubby a bit of time to crack it."_

_No problem. I could use a rest._

– Gnarl's Guide: Minions –

Minions, where to start? Well, to start with the obvious, we're a loyal bunch, that's for certain. We spawn and die as the Overlord wills, and do so gladly. Over the years, we've been compared to many creatures that the simple folk have dreamed up, like goblins, gremlins, and whatnot, when in reality those are just distorted accounts of Minions at their work for their Overlord.

Now, the life of a Minion begins in the Hive. When the Overlord obtains Lifeforce, that juicy energy that Vampires want and Zombies lack, it is transported through the Gauntlet Gem and into the Spawning chamber, where it is deposited into the hive that matches its element. Now, I won't go into detail about the complex magical and biological processes that turn that Lifeforce into a bouncing brutal Minion, since the last time I did so the listener's head exploded – Not as funny as it could have been since he'd been a Candidate – But suffice to say, this and that happens, and a new Minion, ready and raring for action is born.

At this point, one of several things can happen to this Minion.

First, and most likely, it can be sacrificed. Overlords just can't go about using common weapons and armor like any half-rate hero from a village of peons! No, the Overlord needs equipment of the Darkest and most Evil nature, something easily accomplished by dumping several dozen Minions into the smelter as the item is forged, giving it all manner of properties depending on the base metals used in the process and the Minion blend. Newborn Minions are also commonly sacrificed to bring back deceased veterans, those who died and were unable to be raised by Blues in the field, something done rather easily since such veterans are easily worth the price of a few dozen newborns.

The longer a Minion lives, the less likely it is to be sacrificed, given that an active Overlord is typically out-and-about gathering more Lifeforce, spawning more Minions. If a Minion is lucky, it may even see action in combat with the Master! Typically, this is more likely with newer Overlords that have yet to develop their 'Honor Guard' of battle-hardened Minions, ones that have fought and bled for the Master time and again, even dying several times. As an Overlord lives longer and gets more experienced with controlling his Minions, he takes even more and more into the field to fight with him. At this point, it's practically inevitable that the Minion will die, whether being eaten by a large slug on its first outing, or getting mauled by a Panda at the height of its career! As said above, the particularly good Minions may be revived to serve their Overlord again, and again, and again.

The Minions that beat the odds may find themselves taking up important roles in the Castle/Tower/Other Evil Headquarters, like Forgemaster, Graverobber or Potter. After all, there are other jobs that need doing!

Minions come in four distinct Tribes, each identifiable by skin color and tertiary characteristics.

The Browns are the most down-to-earth and mundane of the Minions. They're tough, strong and just barely smarter than an old sheep. Browns are the most numerous of the four Tribes, due to the sheer abundance of Brown Lifeforce in the world. Due to this, they're typically the most expendable, given that any decent Overlord will have large reserves of them. They serve as the Frontline, always first into the peasant's pitchforks. Due to this, Browns also typically become the most experienced troops, gaining proficiency in the use of a variety of weapons and shields and whatnot due to scavenging them from the carcasses of their enemies. Off of the battlefield, Browns guard the Overlord's base and his territorial acquisitions, clean the headquarters, polish his shoes, terrorize his peasants and whatnot.

Greens, there is no polite way to say it, stink. They reek, and from Hive to grave they don't bathe. Supposedly, this allows them to camouflage into their natural jungle habitat more easily, but I'm more inclined to think it halfway kills their targets before they start stabbing! Despite their stench, Greens are the quietest and most agile of the Minion Tribes, making them perfect assassins and scouts! Outside of that however, they're pretty much lazy bums, although their knowledge of weak points in the bodies of many creatures makes them good torture technicians, and one can judge the efficacy of one's poisons and other such substances by having the Greens taste-test them. The general rule is that the better it tastes to the Greens, the more effective it is against everything else.

A fiery Tribe, the Reds serve as the ranged support for the Browns and Greens, generally hanging about somewhere high and lobbing fireballs at the hapless peons that try to assault our Overlord. Like the fires that men burn, Reds have a plethora of uses, among these keeping the Forge hot for the Master's use, heating the headquarters, and helping cook the meals. While most of the other Minions eat what one would normally expect of living creaturs, Reds also like to drink oil and eat rocks. They say it helps with roughage…eugh.

The last of the four Tribes are the Blues. While physically weak and incompetent in melee combat, the Blues are the most mystical and intelligent of all the Minion tribes. Why, the newborn Blues can even count higher than two! Due to the high amounts of magic in a Blue, they are the most resistant to magic spells and waste, an example of this being when the Overlord of Nordberg used them to clean up the Magical Wasteland that was the lands around the Dark Tower. A side-effect of their magic allows the Blues to breathe water and swim, something the other Minion Tribes are completely useless at. This makes them excellent for fishing and other aquatic duties. Their magical nature also gives the Blues great affinity with the afterlife, allowing them to resurrect those Minions who just didn't duck in time, so long as they got to them before the Minion's soul departs. And even then, the oldest and wisest Blues can bring back the long dead using the souls of other Minions.

– The Author –

Alright, second chapter done.

Gnomish Kill Count: 677/50,000

Review replies:

Takeshi Yamato: Really? Aw man, you're missing out!

Omegalus: That it does.  
>Yep, although there'll be a bit more of a focus on the Netherworld Tower first.<br>Actually, it'll mainly be a shout-out that ties in to one of my favorite movies back when I was a kid, although you can bet Quaver's going to continue the title tradition.  
>At this point, it's mostly a joke.<p>

Genobeast: Pretty much.

Knightmare Gundam of Ni


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